Prince Adnan Saarim Al Djesu - Sheik of the Persian Empire and son of the Shah of Kehran – stared intently at the dark, aqualine features of the reflection in the mirror. He gazed deep into the coal-black eyes that gave him the exotic intensity that had brought him to acclaim in Hollywood. The dark eyes were rimmed with red, the whites now an exhausted pink. Hard rivulets of sweat rode the strong brow and high cheekbones that had made a million women swoon. There was a weariness in that face...

A Letter in Regret Charles Francisco Boyd, first cousin, son of my mothers oft-errant brother, "died suddenly, after a prolonged illness". More specifically, Cousin Charlie died of a softball-sized tumor in his scrotum. Subsequent to devouring his balls entirely, the Big C (Cancer, not Charlie), spread its infernal wrath like a biblical plague, mulching the majority of his internal organs inside of eight weeks. For the majority of his life, from the age of two until shortly before his death, ...

Bryans mind was pent in, surrounded on all sides, trapped by a single word. It was a feeling more than a word, but there was a term for it. Tremulous. He wasn’t sure that it was the correct word (it probably wasn’t even close), but it sounded right – like a lone, tiny leaf – the last leaf on the tree, hanging on for dear life against the constant flap and flow of a powerhouse wind, unsure of exactly how many seconds it can continue to ride the very branch that gave it life. Tremulous, that’s ...

Tremulous. That was the only word that would enter Bryans mind. Tremulous. He wasn’t sure that it was the correct word (it probably wasn’t even close), but it sounded right - like a lone, tiny leaf - the last leaf on the tree, hanging on for dear life against the the constant flap and flow of a powerhouse wind, unsure of exactly how many seconds it can continue to ride the very branch that gave it life. Tremulous, that’s how Bryan felt staring at the phone. Melissa had given him the number al...

I saw my Grandma today. Shaking and confused – 93 years old – still full of piss and vinegar. She’s got 200 lbs of ass rested in a wheelchair she didn’t really need, but for laziness and pity. Her shoulders are tiny in comparison, and her hair is a wild mess atop them. Her hands – waxy skin, taut at bony knuckles, hanging loose and tattered in between – the hands of a starving man. She still has the same face. That thoroughly confusing mixture of influence. Regret mixed with serenity and love...